Our Senior Year
by The Virtue of the Bored
Summary: Senior year abridged. Some canon, but not much. After summer, movies, and West Side Story, Kurt realizes that Dave Karofsky may be the one for him. [Two-shot. Klaine turns to Kurtofsky.]


Kurt Hummel knew he was completely and utterly done for the day he saw David Karofsky _grinding_ against some lucky cross-dressing bastard to the Chicago soundtrack.

Maybe he was skipping too far ahead. It would probably be easier to explain this from the beginning; after Kurt's defeated return from New York.

See, he and Karofsky weren't exactly… on the best of terms all the time. They just didn't seem to click. Kurt liked fashion, and Broadway, and romance and, and… _girly things._

Dave liked… well, Kurt didn't exactly know, but he assumed it was sports and the other brutish things Finn liked. The conversations had never really got to that point; something always happened before any real bonding could begin. Usually it was Finn interrupting to make sure Dave wasn't bullying him (which, props to Dave, he "got", and was only ever a little bit angry), but more recently… it had been Blaine.

That too was completely understandable. Blaine was his boyfriend, and they did practically everything together. It made sense that Dave would feel self-conscious around a new person. But whenever Blaine turned up in his adorable little bow ties and bright coloured skinny jeans, Dave clammed up.

Five minutes with them, and he was running for the doors. The record was thirty seconds; Blaine sat down, gave Kurt a chaste kiss… and Dave was out the door without as much as a goodbye.

Rudeness aside, Kurt was worried. As much as David had advanced over the year, he clearly wasn't ready to deal with gay shows of affection. That could be excused, but it direly needed addressing.

So, the next time he made plans with Dave, Blaine wasn't invited (thank whatever deity that was on patrol that day that Blaine had offered to meet up with him once they were done. He was so thoughtful that way).

The first time they had really talked had been a warm morning at the end of July. Dave had taken him to a European Café that had opened near his house (from the looks of things, Dave came from a relatively well-off family). It was such a sweet looking place. Kurt had ordered a croissant and French roast coffee, and Dave had paid before he even had a chance to get his wallet out.

"You realise you're officially a French Fancy, yeah?"

He couldn't help but giggle. It was so bizarre; he was giggling with Dave Karofsky of all people, and Dave seemed so pleased with himself. He had this wicked grin that was just indescribably cute.

Dave Karofsky being cute… What was the world coming to?

"So, how's life? You considered any colleges yet?" Dave asked between mouthfuls of brownie.

"I have, actually! Rachel and I have decided to continue on our road to Broadway and apply to Julliard. And you?"

"I, uh… well, yeah, I have."

There was a pause, where David just swirled his Earl Grey and looked down. Kurt sighed. "Really, you're going to make me beg? Where are you going David? What are you doing?"

Dave looked up, and Kurt would swear to this day that he saw Dave blushing slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "St. John's in New York… I'm going to study Law. Well, you know, maybe."

Kurt was suitably impressed by this. "A lawyer… really? I imagined a more physical route for you. So, do you have much of a chance of being accepted?"

"Uh, yeah, I think. Four point grade average, hockey, football… and rumour has it that the football team has to be in the school musical regardless. So, you know… I'm doing pretty well. I might have to do some more extra-curricular shit, but I think I got a shot." He flashed him a charmingly wry smile. "So glad to see believe in me. It really means a lot!"

Dave Karofsky was _actually_ funny; he made Kurt genuinely laugh. When was the last time he had _really_ laughed with someone and meant it? It was amazing how much he had learned about David in their first five minutes. He wanted to learn more.

"Well, I look forward to rehearsing with you. I saw you dance at the big game last year. You were amazing. A born performer," he gushed.

"Oh, that." He was definitely blushing now; there was no denying it. Red was his colour. "Yeah, well, I actually like that kind of shit. I wanted to move to LA and be an actor when I was a kid. I always wanted to be a really big star. But let's face it; I'm less of a Gene Kelly and more of a Donald O'Connor."

That day would be forever marked as the day Kurt wished he had talked to Dave sooner. He knew 'Singing in the Rain'! And as it transpired, his knowledge of early 20th century cinema extended way past that. The next few hours were spent discussing the Audrey Hepburns and Marlon Brandos they admired. Dave the Neanderthal was… interesting! More than that, he was cultured. Yes, he punctuated his sentences with crude obscenities (apparently Ava Gardener was a "fucking legend"), but it was all intelligent. They even got in to a debate over Hepburn's best film (he actually believed that 'Sabrina' was her best film! Of all things!)

Kurt wanted to ask so much more, but his phone went off. 'Pokerface' blasted from his jeans' pocket and he sighed; getting things in and out of these trousers was a Herculean labour. Dave frowned down at his watch. "Didn't you have a… _date_ with Blanderson like an hour ago?"

"Oh, no; I'm late! I'm sorry David! I'll call tonight; I am not letting you get away with thinking Marilyn Monroe is over-rated!"

He smiled. "Well, she's no Greta Garbo; I don't think she has the right to be such a diva."

"Oh, where have you been all my life, David? Ciao!"

Thankfully, Blaine had been more than understanding, and didn't hold his tardiness against him. They went shopping, got a bite to eat. Kurt tried starting a debate on Audrey Hepburn, but naturally Blaine and he agreed on everything, right down to favourite pair of shoes. The conversation lasted a staggering two minutes. They were perfect like that. Perhaps Blaine didn't get as animated as Kurt did discussing the icon, but that was fine. Who really shared his interest in the glamorous icons of the 50s?

Well, David clearly.

He shook his heads of these thoughts though. Thinking of another boy on a date was just rude. Wishing he was there was just bad form. Still… he was looking forward to calling him that night. Especially after he received that text from him:

_James Dean in Rebel without a Cause. Cinematic history- yay or nay?_

David was full of many, _many _surprises.

They had conversations like this for weeks after. One day it was modern music, the next it was all about fashion.

Okay, Kurt talked about fashion and Dave dutifully listened and asked the appropriate questions. He definitely wasn't going to be the next Gok Wan, but he at least tried to comprehend the changing moods of fashion. That was more than what Blaine did.

Alright, so maybe he was slightly bitter. He was meant to dress up for a fancy dinner Kurt spent hours making; a big family dinner, that he managed to manipulate his dad in to letting him have. He even managed to get Finn in a tie!

And what did Blaine turn up in?

A sweater vest and paperboy hat; it was like a preppy just vomited on him and told him it was formal. Of course, Dave had laughed at Kurt's dramatization of events.

"You're a hard guy to please though. I mean, I picked this especially for you," he said, plucking at his blue and white checked shirt, "and you said nothing! No one gets fashion like you; deal with it."

The silence was partly because Kurt had been blown away by how well he pulled off the cute, sweet and thoughtful older boy look, but Dave didn't need to know that. Like he needed Kurt telling him he looked attractive. "That's not the point!"

"Hey, I get it, you're pissed."

"That's… a bit far. I'm annoyed at him for ignoring me. Worse, I'm annoyed that he broke a promise."

"Oh, like you can really talk."

Kurt glared at him. "How dare you! I always keep my promises."

Dave scoffed and stirred his Nettle Tea. "Please. _'I wouldn't tell anyone'_. I didn't even have a chance to talk to you about it before you got your boyfriend to give me a big speech about how fucking fantastic this gay shit is."

"He… wasn't my boyfriend then. We had just met."

"Like that makes it any fucking better? You outed me to a complete stranger. You never gave me a chance to apologise or anything. I was already your fucking gay project."

Kurt frowned. "That's not true. Yes, I think you should accept yourself. Yes, I think you should venture out of your closet of tacky polo shirts. But I never wanted to make you a project, David. I wanted to help you."

"And there we are again. I didn't want you to help me. I wanted you to—well, I didn't some private school bastard lecturing me and telling me how much of a coward I am."

Dave wanted to say more, but obviously couldn't. Kurt wouldn't push it. Instead, he murmured his apology. Dave sighed. "I'm sorry. Shit. I thought we were doing well…"

"We are!"

There was a long, tense pause. "Want to maybe… come over to my house sometime? We could watch a Ginger and Fred movie."

"That sounds wonderful, David."

They didn't get around to planning said movie day for a couple weeks after that. It was the last week of summer when Kurt arrived at the Karofsky household. He had planned the perfect nonchalant but elegant outfit (he needed to look fabulous, but not like he tried too hard. Of course he hadn't tried too hard… he always changed his mind about his outfits. Granted, he had never changed his mind seven times before…). He wore a slate, short-sleeved shirt, a pinstriped Armani waistcoat (thank Gaga for thrift stores!) and charcoal skinny jeans.

He hadn't accounted for the sweltering heat, but he looked good.

He knocked on the door and waited. He heard high-pitched girlish giggling. Odd…

The door flew open, and a frazzled looking Dave stood in the frame. His hair was messed up, his shirt buttons almost completely open. He wore only blue boxers. Kurt had to stop himself from salivating (really classy). The chubby little momma's boy was… was toned! Hot, even. At the same time…

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked tersely.

"What?" He looked down and blushed. "Oh, shit. No! Just… come in. I'm going to kill you!" he called through to the living room.

"Who's here?" Hello, what was this? Was he _jealous_?

Dave rolled his eyes. "My older cousin. She's a bitch. She didn't approve of my outfit." He ushered Kurt into the living room. "Lisa, occupy him. I'm going to change. Again."

Kurt turned about twelve different shades of red and looked up at the woman. She really was beautiful; definitely a Karofsky. She too was on the larger side, but like Dave, she carried her curves well. She had the thick coffee coloured hair, the warm hazel eyes. She had Dave's full lips.

When had Kurt noticed that?

Lisa smiled. "So, _you_ are the infamous Kurt Hummel?"

"I assure you half the things he told you were lies."

"So he didn't make your life hell, plant one on you and then threaten you in to transferring?"

"Ah. Well, yes, _that_ is true." Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Kurt couldn't help but feel proud of David. Coming out to family was the hardest. "He told you about it?" he asked hopefully, a small smile spreading over his face.

"Honey, I knew he was gay before _he_ did. I'm the only person he's ever told. I got this little love story in real time: everything from _I like a boy at school_ to the great Prom Fiasco. Davey is very dramatic."

Kurt was grinning now. He couldn't explain with any logical reason why Dave talking about him made him happy… it just did. "So…this isn't some backwoods kind of incest scenario I just walked in on?"

"Oh, God no! I'm engaged, and Davey just doesn't do these," she said, emphasising her point by groping at her breasts. "I just didn't think what he was wearing was appropriate for a date."

"It's not a date, Lise." Dave walked in, sporting a fresh t-shirt and jeans.

Lisa frowned. "You weren't meant to dress more casual."

"I don't think Kurt's boyfriend would be happy with you trying to dress me up for him." Why did that sound so bitter? Was Kurt imagining the hostility?

"Kurtie, is that true?"

Kurt felt utterly mortified. Why hadn't he mentioned that very important detail to Lisa before? "Um, yes… Blaine. He's my boyfriend—my wonderful, perfect boyfriend."

Lisa glanced at Dave and smiled sympathetically. "Oh… Davey, I'll come over tonight, okay? We can talk about it."

"Get out, you whore!"

Lisa giggled, stood up on her tip toes and kissed Dave's cheek. She walked over to Kurt, hips swaying in those ridiculously high heels, and pulled him in to a hug, his face landing in her ample chest. And teenage boys were meant to like this trauma… "It was nice meeting you Kurt. I hope to see you around here more often."

She left, leaving Dave positively glowing red. He sighed. "Sorry about her… she's my favourite cousin, my best friend probably, but she has such a fucking massive mouth." He smiled sheepishly at Kurt, who was still relatively shell-shocked. "You look really good."

Kurt returned the smile, his heart racing slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, David. It's Armani." Why did he say that?

"Oh, yeah. You mentioned finding it in a thrift store. It's cute."

"Oh… You remembered that?" he asked with a small smile. Blaine hadn't.

"Well, yeah. So, '_Flying Down to Rio_'?"

Their movie date- day! Curse Lisa for confusing him with her oddly hypnotic bosom- was undeniably perfect. They watched four of the ten great Rogers-Astaire movies, talked through most of them about the scenes they liked, scenes they hated. They even ventured in the kitchen together to make lunch (Dave wasn't a master chef, but Kurt was still pleasantly surprised by the culinary concoctions he could create). At some point, it had dissolved in to talk about life in general.

Kurt talked about Blaine, mostly. How sweet he was, how kind, how thoughtful and perfect… And naturally, Dave had hit the nail on the head when he added dull to the list.

_That_ was the thought that was niggling away at him all the time recently. He loved performing with Blaine, and he loved spending time with him. They meshed so well together. It was safe, and wonderful, and so totally boring.

Not that Kurt verbalised these thoughts; David already had some sort of vendetta against Blaine. Kurt had understood (there was a lot of that going around this summer, wasn't there?). Blaine was the only other person who knew his secret (not including Santana, naturally, who had nothing to gain by gossiping), and Dave was clearly afraid of that.

Well, regardless, Dave listened. And in turn, Dave offered anecdotes about his life with his dad. He talked about fishing, and camping, and all sorts of masculine things. Dave only joined hockey to keep his dad happy; football was his life.

Finally, the clock struck eight, and Kurt was hit by a strange sense of longing. He really didn't want the day to end. The look on Dave's face said he was having the same conflict.

"I'll walk you home."

"David, don't be silly. It's freezing out there."

"Then I'll drive you. I won't come in; your dad may kill me."

He smiled mischievously. "There's no may about it, honey."

"Then it's settled. Get in the car."

David really was the perfect gentleman in his own way. No, he didn't open the car door for him or anything, but he was polite and courteous enough to offer him the lift. And when they arrived at the Hummel-Hudson residence, he didn't drive off until he was safely indoors.

It wasn't until he was helping Carole with dinner that he realised that Dave hadn't mentioned his mother.

That boy was so mysterious…

When school started the next week, Kurt wasn't confident that their budding friendship would continue. He arrived at school wearing that season's must-have knitwear; a cream lamb's wool sweater, and when he saw Rachel's blue face, he immediately regretted it.

He tried to get to his locker as quickly as possible, only to be confronted by the hockey team.

"Hey there lady," the tallest one sneered.

Kurt stared him down, folding his arms. "I see the summer did nothing to help you develop manners or IQ points."

"Look who think they grew balls," the bulkiest one said.

"You little bitch!"

They advanced. Kurt stepped back, only to hit something solid; muscle, he assumed. He was surrounded. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable icy wash.

Any minute now…

He dared to open his eyes and gasped. The hockey hooligans had fled, but the wall still stood behind him. He turned around and beamed. "David! My hero!"

"Hey… I lose you for a few minutes and you're already in trouble. Jesus, Kurt."

"You lost me?"

Dave looked down. "Yeah, well… I saw you in the parking lot. I wanted to say hi…"

"Hello David. Thank you."

"Any time, Fancy. Want me to carry your stuff?"

He was a gentleman. There was no denying it. What had that summer done to mellow him out so much?

He'd have to find out.

It went like this for a while. Dave would meet him by his locker in the morning, offer to carry his things. Kurt only agreed twice: the first day he offered, and a day he had a particularly bulky science project to carry along with his texts.

Dave never complained. In fact, the extra weight seemed to do little to slow him down. Blaine hadn't been able to carry his working model of the brain (with colour coded electric "synapses" to illustrate his assignment that he spent all summer developing with gratuitous help from his dad) for longer than ten minutes before he needed to set it down.

So now Dave was the rugged, strong brute from the harlequin novels Kurt swore he didn't read. They were hidden well, in a box drowned in his shoes, along with those horribly embarrassing pamphlets. He shouldn't have been surprised really. He fit the description well: bigger, burly, wild… but tameable and gentle.

Why hadn't he noticed this before?

Probably because even a sex God amongst men like Johnny Depp would seem like an unattractive Neanderthal if he was shoving people in to lockers. Not that Kurt was saying David was like Johnny Depp… of course he wasn't; Johnny was his true love after all. David was just a bit comparable.

So why, oh why, oh _why_ was Kurt shocked when his first wet dream was about him?

It started innocent enough. If innocence entailed a harrowing tale of underage drinking, bar crawls and actual crawling across dirty dance floors as Drag Queens became dominatrices as they gyrated to 'When You're Good to Mamma'.

Kurt was wearing who knows what. It was some black number, leather he was assuming. He just knew he looked good. And if the way David was looking at him was any indication, he was right.

Dream David in question was on all fours, some Dolly Parton wannabe holding him down by her tacky rhinestone cowboy boots. He didn't seem to notice though; his eyes were trained on Kurt. Dolly didn't like that. She forced him down and started to grind.

The next scene was a blur. Somehow Dave escaped, and was talking to Kurt. He looked good… he was in a tight, well-fitting shirt and leather trousers (why so much leather?). He was… flirting. Asking about his new job, some question about a band he apparently knew so much about… did they want to get out of there?

Kurt agreed, feeling giddy and dizzy with excitement.

He leaned in…

The kiss from the locker room played on loop. At first, it was identical to the occurrence; angry, rough, and utterly terrifying.

Then the scene melted. They were in his old basement room. Dior grey… so much Dior grey. Dave was still kissing him. Still rough, still forceful, but wanted—completely desired, to the point of begging when they broke for air.

Soon he had his legs wrapped around him, his more solid frame pinning Kurt to the wall. The kisses were deep and frantic, broken by bursts of flattery and dirty talk.

Then they were on the bed, Dave hovering over him, eyes dark with lust. He was kissing down his neck, his suddenly bare chest... he lips hovered above his strained cock.

And he was so good at this; David could suck, and lick and take it all down his throat, no complaint. He moaned, he teased, he worshipped.

Kurt begged for more.

He woke up, hot, sweating, and with a wet mess in his pants.

He took a shower, and rationalised it. He was just sleeping. It wasn't cheating, he was just a bit stressed, and David was just a face.

So what if he awoken with his name on his lips?

He just needed more time with Blaine, that's all. So, when Blaine transferred to McKinley, he thought it was the best thing to happen to him.

Boy was he wrong.

Not only did the dreams not stop, they became more frequent and vivid. They had new scenarios, new plot-lines. Soon they weren't even contained to the sanctity of his dream world; they were fantasies for the real world, too.

On top of all this, Blaine was beginning to feel less and less like a boyfriend.

First, there was the tension between him and Finn. Kurt couldn't quite grasp the issue, but from what Puck had explained Finn felt he was losing his status as Glee Alpha.

Then, there was the great West Side Story debacle.

Kurt needed the lead to get in to NYADA (his new dream, since he and Rachel discovered Julliard's lack of musical theatre course). He needed it desperately.

They offered it to Blaine. Blaine, who knew how much his boyfriend needed that lead, accepted.

At the time, Kurt had laughed it off. So, he wasn't the most masculine guy in school; they both knew who the real Broadway diva was.

He and Dave had been getting a coffee after Glee/football when he told Dave he hadn't got the part.

"That sucks… you were brilliant. I've never heard anyone hit notes that high."

"Streisand—"

"—Is no better than the "pretty girls" she's built her career on showing up. I hate the big nosed bitch."

"How dare you! She is a paragon of—"

"Quit dancing around it. Who got the part?"

"… Blaine."

Dave actually looked furious. "What a bastard!"

"He was better than me."

"No, he's really not. He's got more charisma. You're the better singer, the better performer, the pretty face… he just has a deeper voice and weird clothes."

Kurt bit his lip and smiled. "Pretty?"

"Well, yeah…."

"Thank you, David. No one really… _compliments_ me."

He shrugged. "They assume you already know this stuff. When you see someone amazing, you just assume that they get this shit all the time. Like, they've heard it all before."

"No. My sexy face looks like gas pains."

He scoffed. "Says who?"

"… Blaine."

Dave sat back and sipped his coffee with a grunt. "I thought he was meant to be Prince Charming… what a dick. You're sexy."

For once, he couldn't bring himself to disagree; he was too busy trying to hide his blush. "Well, my social calendar is officially boyfriend-less for the next few months," he said lightly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from these dangerous waters.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Well, for me… sort of. My dad wants to know if you'll come over for dinner some night next week."

"Oh." Well, that was unexpected. Ominous really… why was he suddenly so nervous? "W-why?"

Dave shrugged. "Well, I… Dad is impressed with my reformation. He thinks it's your fault. He wants to thank you in person." He smiled a little. "Lisa and her fiancé will be there."

"How about we do it Wednesday? I can go home and get changed."

"Your school clothes are fine. You look like a model anyway."

"Oh, I think I'll keep you around; you're great for my ego."

He raised his cup. "I aim to please."

And please he did. The more Kurt thought about it, the more of an entity in his life Dave was becoming. He purposely tried to make plans with him before anyone else these days. Obviously, it was because Blaine was so busy with his rehearsals. When that was over, he'd see Dave less, and… and…

Oh, sweet Gaga, there couldn't be a worse Hell.

Dave was just such a new sort of friend. Kurt either had frenemies like Rachel or people who agreed with totally all the time (like Mercedes or Blaine). Dave actually _challenged _him. He made him explain his actions, his thought processes… he'd disagree or agree, depending on that.

It was like Dave actually cared about the person, not just the personality. He cared about why he thought something, not just the witty way he said it. He cared about Kurt's day, not just the latest Beyoncé moves. He just cared about Kurt, and Kurt was quickly starting to care so much about him.

His everything became a countdown to Wednesday.

When Wednesday arrived, Kurt had the perfect outfit planned. He had last period free, so he went home to shower. His dad wasn't exactly happy about the arrangement, but what could he do? Kurt was excited. More excited than he'd been since pre-New York.

He arrived promptly at half five; not so early that he seemed like a leech, but early enough to do the awkward introductions and still get David to himself for a couple of hours.

Why he was so desperate to get David to himself, he didn't really know.

He knocked on the door and waited.

An attractive man of, who looked just short of thirty years, answered. He was blond, quite short with an athletic build. He smiled shyly. "You must be Kurt."

"Yes… You're not Paul or Dave, so I'm assuming the fiancé?"

"Peter. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise."

They loitered awkwardly in the doorframe. "I'm meant to keep you here until Lisa redresses Dave. She thought you might have dressed up."

Well, she hadn't been wrong. He had bought this outfit especially for this evening; a plum shirt, since Dave had mentioned briefly a few weeks back that he thought Kurt should wear more colour, and a pair of brand-new well-worn stone-grey jeans. A bit more masculine than his usual attire, but he only had one chance to make a good impression on the Karofsky family as Dave's new… maybe best friend.

Oh God, if someone had told him this time two years that Dave Karofsky would be his best friend in senior year, he'd have been recommending a good neurosurgeon and a large prescription of 'Bitch please'. He had never been so happy to be wrong.

"I see. So… when's the wedding?"

He beamed, and Kurt couldn't help but return the bright smile. You could always tell what kind of person a man in love was by the way he talked about his lover. "Next June. Big wedding, loads of family, a few friends… Lisa is planning it all. She needs help, but she doesn't trust anyone else's judgement. She's so cute like that… so determined."

Kurt nodded. "She is very forward."

"I heard about that. Sorry. She's just so protective when it comes to David."

"Dave doesn't need the protection."

"He's a sensitive boy. When he was twelve, there was this giant bear mascot at a baseball game, and this—"

"You finish that story, and I swear to God I will kill you."

Peter spun around and laughed. "Well. Don't you look spiffy?"

And he did. He really, _really _did. He wore black dress trousers and a white shirt. Nothing spectacular, nothing out of the ordinary… but David was so rarely dressed formally, and suddenly it seemed like a loss to the fashion world. Kurt recalled vaguely checking him out at prom, before he turned around and Kurt realised just who it was. Now though… he was comfortable, and smiling, and…

_Gorgeous._

It made for the beginning of an awkward evening, anyway. He was torn between leaving then, so as to remain a good boyfriend to Blaine, and staying, so as to admire Dave's reformation.

He really needed to take the boy shopping some time though.

"You look good, David," Kurt said finally, his voice just a smidgen higher than usual.

"I escaped the tie. She thinks this is prom or some shit. Want to say hi to my dad, or want to hide upstairs with Lisa?"

Kurt giggled, smiling broadly. "Well, I better extend greetings to the host."

Dave paused. Kurt could see he was battling with some inner conflict; he almost looked pained by these thoughts.

"What's wrong?" he asked finally.

Dave looked down. "My, uh… my dad doesn't know yet. About…"

"The gay thing?" Peter filled in.

"Yeah, thanks," he huffed.

Kurt nodded. He had assumed as much. "But Peter does?"

"I told you Lisa was protective over him. Do you think she'd marry me if I didn't support David's choices?" Peter asked.

"Fuck you, it's not a choice," David said, turning to the kitchen. "This way, then."

That had been a shock. Maybe David was truly starting to accept his sexuality. They hadn't discussed it much over the holiday, mentioning it only in the context of movie stars or books. If he accepted that it wasn't a choice… if he had told Lisa and Peter… maybe his homosexuality wasn't a big deal to him anymore.

The boy was incredible.

Paul Karofsky hadn't changed since their last encounter. Old, greying, but not withered, despite the ten years he had on Kurt's own father. He was a handsome man, his round face etched with years of laughter and happiness. So why did his eyes look so sad, even though he was smiling?

"Kurt! Good to see you!" he said, extending his hand.

"Pleased to see you again, sir," he replied, shaking his hand delicately.

"Please, call me Paul. You're right on time! It's a pity I'm not. Davey why don't you go upstairs? Ask Lisa to come down and help with the potato salad."

Dave nodded. "Okay. You coming Kurt?"

"Actually, I'd like a word with him," Paul said.

Dave and Kurt shared the same shocked and horrified look. If ever there were a time to allow a social taboo, this was it; _well, fuck._

David nodded nonetheless, slowly leaving the kitchen. Kurt took a seat on one of the black leather upholstered dining chairs and looked up at Paul. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, not at all." Paul removed his pinstriped apron and took the seat opposite him. "I know David is easily embarrassed. He accepts criticism with ease, but compliments fluster him. I'm sure you've noticed."

"I have. It's cute." Oh _why _did he say that? To his father of all people!

Paul laughed however. "Yes, he is adorable. I'm sure you've noticed he's changed over the summer."

"Yes, sir, though I'm not sure what happened."

"You did."

Kurt frowned. "I didn't do anything."

"You gave him a second chance. After what he did, not many people would have. I love my son, and I will defend him through anything. But what he did was inexcusable. That boy was not my son."

To think the man who would claim to love him unconditionally was already passing judgement. Dave had his reasons for not coming out to him clearly… but if he told his dad, then maybe he wouldn't live with this guilt.

Instead he lived with the fact that his dad didn't respect him anymore. He lived with the fact that on some level, his dad had stopped loving him as much.

Poor David…

"Sir, David is an incredible person who made some bad choices. You really shouldn't say things like that."

"I know he is. I just don't want him to be judged on those actions."

Like he was doing now? "David has his reasons for everything. I don't judge him for what he did. I judge him on the man he is now." Kurt was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to defend him against this unfair onslaught. "Davey is sweet. He's thoughtful, he's kind… he's intelligent, and generous, and, and-"

There was a giggle from behind him. He turned around to see Lisa leaning in the door frame as the last peek of a white shirt ran upstairs. Kurt blushed. Again: well, fuck.

"He's fine," Lisa said with a knowing smile. "He'll be upstairs blushing and doing a victory dance. He's such a shitty dancer." She walked over to Paul and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let Kurt and Dave go hang out. Kurt knows he's changed."

"Right, of course." He turned his attention back to Kurt. "First door on the left— it's the one with the keep out sign."

"Thank you."

He followed the directions, willing for his face to stop glowing such an unattractive shade of red. He knocked on the door and walked in, laughing at Dave's equally red face.

Dave sighed and looked up at him. "So… that's my dad."

"He's nothing like you, is he?"

Dave quirked an eyebrow, surprised by this. "Oh?"

Kurt closed the door behind him and took a seat next to him. "No. He seems like the kind of guy who would love the ego trip. You're too humble."

Dave muttered something about just going to the bathroom and escaped to the en suite. Kurt took the time to assess the room. You could, after all, tell a lot about a man by his interior design skills.

The walls were painted a bland cream colour, clearly not the choice of such a passionate person as Dave; much too feminine for the conventional Paul. Obviously the mother had been in charge of decorating. It was cleaner than Kurt had imagined, though he was used to Finn leaving his dirty clothes where he stood, whether it was his room or not.

The flourishes though, were indescribably Dave. The trophies on the book case weren't dusted as much as other surfaces… clearly his dad's idea to put them up. The walls were plastered with posters of all sorts—football teams, movies, actors. The wall above his bed though, was bare. Something used to be there (another poser and some photos, he guessed by the size of the dirt mark).

The room was warm, and safe, and just… perfectly Dave, right down to brown fluffy throw blanket he had folded neatly over the foot of the bed.

He looked at the giant poster on his wardrobe in a silent salute. Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out; who needed the science of deduction when you had interior design?

David returned with an awkward smile. "Thanks… for uh, sticking up for me. He's not bad, he just doesn't get it."

He put a hand on his arm. "I understand."

Dave looked down at Kurt and frowned. "I thought you hated jeans that looked like jeans."

"Oh, I do." He patted the space next to him, and pulled his most dramatic pose, leaning back and arching up. "Don't I look fabulous?"

"You could wear a tea cosy and still look hot."

The blush was never going to leave if they didn't move on. "What used to be over your bed then?"

"Huh?" He sat down and laughed sheepishly. "Old pictures, mainly. A poster of Megan Fox in a bikini… I gave up on trying the whole straight thing after prom. Dad thinks the posters are because of how much of a Sherlock fan I am. Nope. Robert Downey Junior is just really cute."

Kurt was about to remark on how doomed that relationship would be when Lisa opened the door. She was… pouting. Like an over-sized, well-endowed toddler. "Davey," she whined.

"Oh, fucking hell. What now?" he growled, glaring up at her.

"Oh, like you grew a pair and made a move. _This_ is important. _This_ is my wedding and _he_," she spat the pronoun out, as though just mentioning her fiancé left a bitter taste in her mouth, "is being difficult!"

"Oh, what now?"

"He wants to do it in the temple. Can you believe that?"

"Wait, you're bitching because he wants to respect his religion."

She stamped her foot. "He _knows _what I think about it!"

"The gunpowder of humanity; I'll get it on a t-shirt if it gets you to shut up. I'm busy."

She sniffled. "Davey…"

He made a noise of irritation and threw his hands in the air, muttering crude obscenities as he walked past Lisa. Kurt sighed. Getting Dave to himself was proving tedious already.

"How's Blaine?"

She always asked this. "Fine."

"Still together then?"

"Yes," he snapped, irritated for reasons he would never admit. Not only was she ruining his attempts to get some Dave time, she was just annoying; she was like a broken record with all this Blaine nonsense. Why did she always have to bring him up? "Why do you always push it?"

She sighed and took the seat Dave just vacated. She put a hand on his knee and smiled sadly at him, the same patronising smile adults always seemed to have when they were giving advice that wasn't needed. "It would be kinder if you let him down now."

"… What?"

And wasn't this everything he'd feared since the damned dreams started? Someone finding out, and Blaine—

"Dave is sensitive. He acts like the hard man, but he's not; he pines over you. Every little thing you do, he gushes about. And when he found out you had things in common… I'd never seen him happier. It was like he had a shot at happiness. And yeah, I encouraged it; I thought you were single. You know he blanks it out whenever Blaine is even mentioned. It hurts him so much."

Kurt swallowed hard. Dave? "Wh-what?"

"Oh, you must have noticed. He's such a puppy when it comes to you. If you so much as clicked your fingers he'd come running. He has fallen for you so hard, Kurt. So hard, I mean… he kissed you. Why doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"He doesn't… he doesn't care. It was just a, a… a thing."

"_Yes_ he does. He kissed you because he fell for you freshman year. It had nothing to do with the fact you were gay. You didn't know his name then, but he knew everything about you. It sounds creepy, I know, but it's true. And after all the shit he did, you still wanted to talk to him. You wanted to be friends, and that made him so happy. But this," she waved her hand, "_this_ situation is killing him. He's waiting for you to tell him you don't want him or you do. That you don't Blaine, or you do. He'll still be your friend, but… he needs to know where he stands."

"I…" His head was swimming. Dave had feelings… for him? "Like actual romantic feelings? What does he want from me?"

Lisa laughed bitterly. "Maybe a relationship?"

"He… Oh."

"Look, just… be careful."

The dinner had been lovely. Paul was quite the chef, and the family was hilarious. Lisa had so many anecdotes; Peter had a dorky observation attitude… and David. David was wonderful: so witty, and dry, and sarcastic.

When the time came to come home, Dave predictably offered him a lift. Kurt tried to refuse out of courtesy, but then Dave mumbled a throaty "we need to talk."

For the third time that night, "well, fuck" was an apt response.

The drive to him home had been short and tense. Kurt couldn't very well start the conversation; he wasn't sure what David wanted to talk about.

They sat in silence outside the house for a few minutes before finally Dave spoke. His voice was low, rough and just so… tired. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I know you have Blaine. I know you think he is fucking perfect, and the sun shines from his hobbit ass, but I can't help that I fell for you."

"You heard?" Why was his heart racing so fast? He felt like he'd die…

"I know when she wants me to leave." He laughed bitterly. "She does it all the fucking time… berates people for not being sensitive around me. I'm not a kid anymore though. I'm not going to cry because a man in a bear suit gave me a balloon just as it popped."

Kurt let out a breathless giggle, too scared to comprehend this. "David, I—"

"Please, just… forget it; being your friend has been the best thing in my life so far. I don't want to lose that."

"It has?" He was blushing so intensely now.

"Well, yeah."

He smiled sheepishly at Kurt. Kurt looked at him; really properly took note of him. He really was gorgeous. And sweet, and thoughtful, and every other perfect quality Kurt ever dared to hope about in a boyfriend. He had Blaine, though. Blaine, who…

Blaine, who…

Blaine…

Oh, when did he _ever_ think of Blaine anymore? Really, when did he Blaine act like a couple anymore? They had faded in to this obscure friendship of holding hands and occasionally kissing. He was sweet and he was thoughtful, but in a way a child is. Kurt didn't want a child. What he wanted, what he always wanted, was a real man.

A man like…

"I mean, no one interesting ever wants to talk to me. Fucking hell, Kurt… you're just so amazing and perfect. You're hilarious, and cultured. And you really have no fucking clue how beautiful you are. You think it's all the fancy clothes and product, but it's not. It's just you, your soft skin and cute blush… and your eyes. Fucking hell Kurt, your _eyes_," David laughed, and it was like he couldn't stop the words streaming anymore. All Kurt could do is watch in awe. How had he not known Dave wanted him? How had he not known that he wanted Dave? "They're gorgeous; such a pretty shade of blue… so you. And you're sexy as fuck, and you don't have a fucking clue what you do to me! What I think about when I see you in those white jeggings, or that Marc Jacobs sweater that shows off your biceps. I mean, you're a bitch, but it's so fucking hot watching you strut around, knowing you deserve better than the assholes in Lima. And you honestly do. I mean, you could be a real star, and I'd be happy just knowing—"

Kurt shot forward, his lips connecting to Dave's in a moment of pure _need_, his hands clutching at the collar of the damn arousing shirt.

Dave was utterly still, shell-shocked even. For a moment, Kurt felt like he'd be rejected, just like he rejected Dave, and he whimpered.

The small noise, though, must have shaken him from the shock, and he started to kiss back. Suddenly those soft, full lips were pliant, kissing back with as much force as Kurt gave. This was nothing like his kiss with Blaine—that had been all rosy and Sunday morning friendly.

_This_ was so much more than he had dreamed about. Imagination, take note—this was how it felt to kiss him properly.

Dave's tongue slid across his, the sensation odd and new. It caressed the palate of mouth, causing him to shiver. Kurt returned the ministrations, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

His hands were perfect. They were _everywhere. _He buried one in Kurt's hair tugging slightly every so often, his other exploring whatever plane of Kurt he could grope at. Again, he pulled, this time sharply, eliciting a strangled whine from Kurt. Dave kissed down the newly exposed neck, lapping and nipping at certain spots. He nuzzled his nose lightly against the spot where his shoulder met his neck and he bit down, his tongue rolling over the area with furious force.

This was all so _dirty. _Kurt was still with Blaine; his dad was just up the drive; they were in a beat up old Ford Explorer for goodness sake! But it was perfect. Everything was perfect, and Kurt was whimpering for more. He was already getting hard, and he cursed the decision to wear jeans. The swelling was so painful against the unyielding denim.

It was a good ache though. Every rough movement was. After a particularly hard bite, followed by the soothing motions of Dave's far too talented tongue, he had Kurt stuttering forward uselessly, as he held on to Dave's shirt and gasped. "Oh, _David!"_

He pulled back, horrified. Kurt gulped and tried to hold his hand. "A-are you… alright?" He'd ruined it. Blaine always said he kissed differently than he was used to. Was that code for wrong? Maybe Dave didn't like it. Maybe he didn't like him… oh, why did he kiss him? "I…"

"I can't."

Kurt flinched. "Why?" It sounded desperate when he said it.

"I'm not going to be _that_ guy, Kurt. I'm not going to wait around for Blaine to cancel on you so I can spend time with you and do this. Jesus, Kurt. I've seen what that does to people."

Kurt stole a glance at his house. It wasn't too late… they could still talk this out. "What do you mean?"

"My mom left last year, right before we went back to school. She just up and moved to Colorado or something. No goodbye… she just gone next morning. I mean, we saw it coming. She was sleeping around with some guy."

Kurt gasped. "Oh… why didn't you tell me?"

He offered a dejected shrug. "I didn't think you'd care."

"Oh course I would… but why bring it up now?"

He sighed. "I don't want to be the home wrecker. What you've got with eyebrows is special and shit. I know. And I can't just wait around hoping you'll leave him for me."

"I will."

The words left his mouth before he even had a chance to think about it. Would he really give up someone as wonderful as Blaine for a Neanderthal who shoved him in to lockers for a sport?

No. Never in a million years would he even consider it.

But for the man who listened to his bitching, put up with his diva tantrums, and made him feel special, loved and totally undeserving all at once… in a heartbeat. The sad fact was that he had fallen way too fast to ever realise he had.

"I want you. I want to be your boyfriend. I'll… I'll leave Blaine. Give me time, and I'll end it."

Dave let out a breathless chuckle. "Seriously?"

"_Yes_. I mean…he's a good friend… my best friend. But I stopped loving him. I don't think I ever did like I was meant to."

"I thought he was perfect."

"So are you." He swallowed. "I want… to date you. Do you want me?"

Dave dared to look to steal a glance at him, and released a shaking breath. "You're serious."

"Do you want me, David?"

He reached out and stroked his face, like he didn't believe that he was here. It made Kurt shiver, just because it was so much softer than his previous caresses. "Of course I want you…"

"Friday."

"What?"

"It's the first dress rehearsal. You have football, don't you? I'll talk to him and we can go back to yours?"

Dave shook his head. "I'm skipping—picking gramps up from the airport." He smiled hesitantly. "You could come around when you're done?"

"Okay." He shouldn't want to kiss him so badly again. "I should go then."

"Yeah… see you tomorrow?"

"Of course." He smiled, feeling giddy and oddly relieved. "When I do this… then what?"

Dave shrugged. "Dinner and a movie… unless you have a better first date plan?"

"Sounds incredible," he said with a smile. He leaned in tentatively and pressed a kiss to his cheek. That wasn't cheating, right? "Thank you for tonight."

"Take care."

He climbed out the car, waved, and walked up the drive. He paused at the door and looked back, cheeks flushed. He waved shyly and stalked in to the house.

What was he going to do? He had to break up with Blaine. Even if it wasn't for David, he had to because this thing wasn't fair on either of them. This relationship was… well, not bad. It was definitely something he could look back fondly on, and remember how sweet and caring his first relationship was. It wasn't bad; it was just built on practicality. And as Dave had just proven, passion wasn't practical. And what Kurt needed most in a relationship was passion.

David had so much of that…

He would go over tomorrow. Get it out of the way before Friday. And then… Then he would be dating Dave Karofsky.

His heart fluttered and he leaned against the front door. Dating Dave…

"Kurt?"

"Coming Carole!"

* * *

**Part 2 (The Finale) coming soon! and reviews are always appreciated!**


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